


You're The Best Gift

by bouncymouse



Series: Shinra Holiday 2020 [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Secret Santa, ShinraHoliday2020, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncymouse/pseuds/bouncymouse
Summary: Elena has a Christmas gift for Tseng. After-hours shenanigans at Shinra headquarters, for #ShinraHoliday2020
Relationships: Elena/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Series: Shinra Holiday 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057700
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38
Collections: Shinra Holiday 2020





	You're The Best Gift

**Author's Note:**

> My first entry for #ShinraHoliday2020, for the prompt "You're The Best Gift." Late (starting as I mean to go on) and probably the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written ;)
> 
> This is partially dedicated to all of the workplaces like mine, where the first question asked after you draw your Secret Santa is "who did you get?"

“So…” Reno dragged the syllable out, a sign he was looking for trouble. “Who did you get?”

Elena looked up from her report. He was watching her intently, arms hanging over the wall of her cubicle. After a lot of complaining, the powers that be finally cranked up the heating, and in deference to the balmy temperature he’d taken off his jacket and popped another button on his already scandalously unbuttoned shirt. 

She frowned, turning back to her computer. “I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a Secret Santa, Reno.” She tapped out the next sentence of her report. “The clue’s in the name.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Go bug somebody else.”

He sighed dramatically, drumming his palms against the partition. The noise was loud in the empty office. “You’re just cranky you didn’t get Tseng.”

She stopped typing, the tips of her ears burning. Ordinarily, she’d have turned her nose up and feigned ignorance. Reno had been trying to wheedle a confession out of her for months, and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of one. She knew her relationship with Tseng was the hottest topic around the water-cooler, but neither of them had given anybody any concrete proof, and so the rumour mill carried on turning.

Reno wasn’t wrong, though. When she pulled Rude’s name out of the envelope, she was a little disappointed.

She abandoned her work and leaned back, eyes narrowed. Her chair creaked under her weight. “How do you know that?”

His condescending smirk morphed into a shit-eating grin.

“You got him,” she guessed.

“Yeah, and I want Rude and I know you’ve got him.”

She tried to keep her tone nonchalant, seeing the opportunity that was opening up in front of her. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he’s got you, and Tseng has me,” Reno replied, folding his arms. “Process of elimination.”

“And they told you this?”

He tapped his nose. “I’ve got my sources.”

He was dangling a Gysahl green in front of her. Still, she wavered. “Tseng said we’re not allowed to swap.”

“Tseng doesn’t need to know.”

Elena thought it through a fraction of a second longer. Against her better judgement, she caved. “Fine… But if you tell anybody we swapped, I’ll tell him why you skipped work last Saturday.”

He snorted derisively. “I skipped work because I was sick.”

“Hangovers aren’t an illness.” She smiled sweetly. “Now piss off, I’ve got work to do.”

* * *

They’d exchanged gifts earlier that afternoon.

Reno’s looked like he wrapped it with one hand and bore a dog-eared red bow. When Rude unveiled the gaudy apron and novelty bottle opener, he laughed long and hard, before nailing Reno in the solar plexus with the phallic appliance. Reno threw it back at him, clutching his chest with a wounded expression and grumbling about bullying in the workplace.

She’d caught the corner of Tseng’s mouth twitch as he watched them argue. Rude was a whizz in the kitchen, and she could already picture him wearing the apron, _‘kiss the chef’_ emblazoned across his chest.

Rude’s gift to her was a box of fancy chocolates and a scarf with Tonberries knitted into the pattern. He wound it around her neck, pointing out that they were small and completely terrifying, just like her. She smiled, pressing the butter-soft wool to her cheek. Tseng gifted Reno a bottle of cheap liquor, deadpanning that anything of any quality was wasted on his undiscerning palate, and a metal tin with the words _‘swear jar’_ stamped on the front.

She was almost certain the tin was Rude’s idea. It now had pride of place on Reno’s disaster of a desk and was already half-full of loose change.

Reno smirked smugly at her when Tseng opened his gift. She resolutely ignored him. The black silk tie and mythril cufflinks were entirely appropriate, if not a little boring, and she’d selected them specifically to avoid any raised eyebrows. Tseng thanked her, taking time to study the engraved Wutain emblems for luck and good health, before slipping the slim box into his blazer pocket.

After that, they hashed out plans for Christmas Eve drinks, the three less senior Turks trying to drag the impromptu break out as long as they could. Eventually, Tseng stood up and suggested they get back to work.

It was late now, and the office was silent. The guys were at Seventh Heaven, the bar becoming something of a regular haunt since the trouble with the Remnants. Whilst they weren’t entirely welcome, Tifa Lockhart at least tolerated their presence, and the last couple of months had seen a definite thaw in her icy demeanour. Elena made excuses for the evening, blaming her absence on paperwork and vague deadlines to throw them off the scent. Rude bought the lie easily enough, but Reno scrutinised her for a while before he shook his head, muttering about brown-nosers and slinging his arm around Rude’s shoulders as they sauntered out the door.

It wasn’t a total lie. She’d spent an hour finishing her outstanding work, relieved to have finally cleared her in-tray. When seven-thirty hit, she logged off her computer and headed out into the deserted corridor. As she let herself into Tseng’s office, nerves almost got the better of her.

The space was simple, sleekly furnished and decorated in the same dark tones and chrome finishings as the rest of their new headquarters. It lacked the floor-to-ceiling windows of his previous office and was far smaller. The company wasn’t quite the industrial behemoth it used to be, and they’d downsized out of necessity in the brave new world they found themselves in.

She preferred this one. It was cosier and less imposing. The scent of his cologne hung in the air, rich and familiar, and she drank it in, ignoring the switch for the fluorescent ceiling lights in favour of the lamp on the desk. This light was softer, warmer, and it blurred the scars on her legs as she shimmied out of her boots and trousers. The air was cool against her bare skin.

She folded the garments neatly, along with her jacket, and left them on top of the filing cabinet in the corner. Loosening her tie and the top buttons of her shirt, she swept the carefully arranged pens and papers aside and took a seat on his desk.

It was almost eight o’clock. Tseng’s meeting with Rufus finished a quarter of an hour ago, and she’d watched the President leave the building on the security feeds, careful to ensure that he’d definitely gone before she headed up to Tseng’s office. Tseng wouldn’t leave right away. Rufus was chasing a business deal in Icicle Inn, and there was travel to arrange and security to organise. Tseng was especially fastidious when the President was involved, and she knew he’d come back up to his office to complete the arrangements.

He liked to make use of the quieter hours, taking advantage of there being no distractions. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. If only he knew.

Tseng was so straight-laced, so proper, so by the book. Faced with keeping Turks like her and Reno in line, he needed to be. Elena wasn’t straight-laced, not in the slightest. She was chaotic and messy, jumping into everything feet first and choosing instinct over logic.

He mused on it often, when they were lying in bed, the sheets crumpled around them and his dark hair dishevelled. He’d trace the red marks on her collarbones and the bruises on her hips and marvel at her chaos. She tore down his walls and revelled in every moment.

Her heart skipped at his voice in the corridor and the soft tread of his footsteps outside the door. His pace was brisk, the one-sided conversation suggesting a phone call, and sure enough, when he entered the room he had his PHS pressed to his ear.

“The President wants to be in Icicle by midday,” he said, his expression barely faltering as his eyes landed on her. When he turned back to the door, she heard the unmistakable sound of the lock turning. “Tell Rude to have the chopper checked over by nine… The last thing we need is engine trouble over the North Sea.”

Tseng slipped his jacket from his shoulders, hanging it on the coat-rack beside the door. Her cufflinks shone at his wrists, the polished metal catching the light. He unpinned them with one hand, his PHS balanced between his shoulder and his ear, and rolled his shirt-sleeves up to his elbows, ignoring her entirely. Elena jutted her chin out, daring him to argue, taking in the veins that ran along his forearms with hungry eyes.

There was something about this slightly less pristine Director that had her libido sitting up and begging for attention. The tailored shirt emphasised his lean build, and she longed to slide her fingers beneath it and press her lips to his skin.

Instead, she stayed seated, eyebrows raised in a silent question. _Well?_ He undid the top button of his collar and loosened his tie a fraction. 

“There’s no reason to believe there will be trouble, but we can’t be too careful,” he continued, crossing the office to take his seat behind the desk. She turned, watching him over her shoulder. “We’ll be there for at least two days.”

He tilted his head when she didn’t move, beckoning her closer.

She slipped off the desk and padded towards him, swinging her hips as she walked. His eyes followed her as he gathered up the papers she’d pushed aside and deposited them neatly on the end of the desk, leaving the space in front of him clear. He pushed his chair back, and she hopped onto the desk, letting her legs rest against his.

His eyes travelled her bare thighs, his expression still infuriatingly unreadable.

“Three at a maximum,” he said, running his hand along her leg. His thumb skimmed her inner thigh, the pressure light enough to be innocent. “We have a meeting in Junon on the Friday. He can’t rearrange.”

When she spoke, she was careful to keep her voice low. “Tell Reno, I said hi.”

His mouth twitched, and he moved the receiver away from his cheek.

“Take it off,” he breathed, tugging at the hem of her shirt, before turning his attention back to the call. “No, that seems fine.”

She slipped the knot loose on her tie, sliding it free from her collar. Tseng held his hand out and she handed it over. His fingers closed around it, crushing the black silk in his palm.

“I imagine Elena will be more than capable… You can hand over to her before we fly.”

Her fingers made quick work of her buttons, her mouth forming a pout. She knew he was doing this on purpose. Tseng didn’t relinquish control easily, and it would be just like him to make her work for it. Unfortunately for him, she knew exactly which buttons to press.

She shrugged her shirt off her shoulders, letting it pool on the desk behind her. The air was icy on her skin. She bit down on her bottom lip, feeling the flush creep over her face as the adrenaline kicked in. Her nipples were already puckered beneath the gossamer fabric stretched over them.

The lingerie she wore cost a ridiculous amount of her salary, considering how little it comprised. Three sheer red panels, connected by an intricate pattern of strings that crisscrossed her hips and torso like a harness. The bright colour was a stark contrast to her pale skin and hair, and she’d chosen it especially. It was a world away from the monochrome palette of her uniform.

He cast her tie aside, reaching instead for the crimson band that cut across her waist. His calloused fingers trailed along her navel, eliciting a shiver down her spine that made her toes curl. He pulled the ribbon, snapping it taut against her skin.

“Perfect,” he said, his voice a little less controlled than it was before. His dark eyes were liquid in the warm light. “I expect the report on my desk in the morning… No, that will be all.”

He cut the call with no idle pleasantries, placing his PHS on the desk beside her.

“I suppose I don’t need to point out how many rules you’re breaking,” he said, after a pause.

“No, you don’t,” she agreed.

“Human Resources would have a lot to say about this.”

“I wanted to give you your gift.”

“You already _gave_ me a gift.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “I gave you a tie. Did you really think I’d give you something so…”

“Practical?”

“Boring,” she corrected him.

He moved closer to the desk, his shirt-sleeves grazing the inside of her knees. “I liked it.”

“Well…” She fingered her bra-strap. “I still have the receipt for this somewhere.”

“I like this too.”

She grinned. “I’m the better gift, I promise.”

He reached up to caress her cheek, his palm warm against her skin. She arched into him, closing her eyes as he skimmed his thumb across her lip.

“The best gift,” he murmured.

The warmth in his words made her heart sing, sentimentality softening her mischievous expression. She kissed the tip of his thumb affectionately and his touch remained gentle a moment longer until she nipped sharply at his skin.

His eyes darkened, the caress becoming less tender, his fingers digging into her jaw. He pressed his thumb between her lips and teeth, dragging her mouth down towards his.

“We have little time,” he mused. His breath was hot and damp on her lips. “I’m going to have you on this desk and you’re going to come for me. Is that clear?”

She grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “No, sir.”

“No?”

She shook her head. His fingers at her jaw made the movement difficult. “I’m not on the clock anymore. You can’t tell me what to do.”

He released her, leaning back in his seat. His hand fell to her hip instead. “I see.”

Elena was playing with fire and she knew she'd burn for it. This kind of insubordination was all too easy. She enjoyed disobeying him almost as much as he enjoyed ordering her around, and there was a mutual benefit to be gained from the arrangement. His other hand was lax against the arm-rest of his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. To an innocent spectator, it was an idle gesture, but to her, it was a red flag. His restraint was already wearing thin.

She loved this tit-for-tat. He could try as hard as he liked to be cool and collected; she’d seen him lose it, knew what it was like when he gave in.

Slipping off the desk, she braced her hands against his shoulders. The space between them was tight, and she pressed her legs between his knees, forcing him to move. “You’re in my way.”

He huffed a little, pushing his chair back from the desk. Her smirk was triumphant when she dropped to her knees.

The creases in his trousers were perfect, as always. She ran her hands from his calves to his waist, where her fingers quickly fell to unbuckling his belt. He might’ve locked the door, but she agreed with his assessment. Time was short.

What she had planned wouldn't take long. 

She unzipped him, slipping her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. Her fingers curled around the length of him, hot and hard in her palm. When she squeezed, he exhaled sharply, fingers tight on the arms of the chair.

He was watching her intently. She wet her lips and settled into position at his feet.

She kept her tempo slow on purpose, rolling her fingers over the head of his cock every time her fist moved upwards. His leather gloves creaked as he gripped the chair, but his expression didn’t change, the set of his mouth infuriatingly neutral. Eager to see a reaction, she leaned forward, pressing messy kisses against his length, her pace increasing as her lips slid against his wet skin.

When she looked up, his eyes were closed, his head tipped back slightly. It was oh-so-tempting to climb into his lap and press her mouth to his exposed throat, to slide herself down onto him and chase the release she craved.

She refused herself the satisfaction, moving to take him into her mouth instead. One swift movement had the head of his cock nestled firmly in the back of her throat. She hummed contentedly, hollowing her cheeks as she sank lower still, fighting the brief urge to gag as she took him as deep as she could. His reaction was worth the moment of discomfort. His fingers curled tightly into her hair, his nails digging into her scalp. Heat pooled low in her core, demanding her attention, and she squirmed, pressing her thighs together to ease the pressure between her legs.

Elena moved quickly, her hands working his length in time with her mouth as she kissed and licked and sucked. She relished the feel of him in the back of her throat, and the way his thighs tensed against her, the tick in his jaw. He was gritting his teeth, still refusing her the satisfaction of hearing him make a sound.

She knew exactly how to play this game.

Slowly, _deliberately_ , she ran the tip of her tongue along his cock, sucking in her cheeks before releasing him entirely. He stood proudly to attention, glistening from the wetness of her mouth.

Looking him in the eye, she licked her fingers and slid them below the waistband of her underwear. Her eyes fluttered as she rubbed them against her slick folds, her breathless moan only half for his benefit. She _needed_ this. His grip in her hair bordered on painful now and she fell forward, still touching herself, to swallow him down again.

He pinned her mouth to him, rolling his hips and muffling her cry. She fisted her free hand around him, her lips working more frantically as he held her in place. She swallowed hard, eyes watering.

“Elena…” he groaned, rewarding her efforts with her name, breathless on his lips.

He was close; she knew he was. She could read it in the way his body tensed. He’d deny her that victory. It always ended on his terms and she didn’t mind, riled up enough to take whatever he wanted to give her. Sure enough, his fingers loosened in her hair, trailing along her jaw to catch her chin, bringing her to a halt. She sat back on her haunches, pleased to see the flush of colour in his face. A moment later he hauled her to her feet, shoving her against the desk.

Her thighs bumped hard against the wood. It would leave a mark, but she didn’t care.

Tseng’s mouth crashed into hers, his fingers digging into her hips. There was no preamble or gentleness, just his teeth and his tongue and the heat of him against her. She wound her fingers through his hair, dragging him closer still, pressing herself into the hard planes of his body and the erection that dug into her stomach.

The heat between her legs was unbearable now. She squirmed, trying to find the contact she craved. He swept the papers off the desk in one haphazard movement and she already had her leg hooked around his waist, grinding herself against him. He lifted her easily, throwing her down on the desk, his hands already tearing at her underwear. She barely had the chance to worry about how much money they cost when he buried himself inside her.

“Fuck,” she moaned, clutching at his hair. Sensation rolled through her, the friction exactly what she needed.

He loomed over her, his rhythm steady as he moved inside her. His lips found her ear, trailing kisses from her jaw and down her throat, and she writhed and moaned, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist. The surface at her back was cold and hard, his body hot, his fingers bruising her hips as he pinned her down. When his mouth grazed her collarbone, she whimpered, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder. She cried out, her core clenching around him.

She knew he felt it. He tore his gloves off, casting them aside. When he held his fingers to her mouth, she wrapped her lips around them, happy to obey.

“Still think I can’t tell you what to do?” he growled, dragging his fingers across her teeth.

“Fuck off,” she replied breathlessly. He slipped his hand between their bodies, and when his wet fingers grazed her clit, she gasped.

His thrusts quickened, although his fingers continued at a torturous pace, rubbing lazy circles exactly where she needed them. She grabbed his collar, forcing his mouth to hers, the kiss hot and messy as she tightened around his cock, her release rapidly approaching.

“You heard what I said,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want you to come for me.”

She could feel it now, the heat and pressure building, pins and needles spiralling through her body as she fell apart around him. He slammed into her, the sound of his hips against her thighs only bringing her closer, his fingers still rubbing insistently at her clit. Her mouth moved, the sounds unintelligible as he tipped her over the edge.

“I’m coming,” she moaned, and her body shook as the waves crashed down, his fingers coaxing every ebb and flow from her, her eyes blown out and her skin clammy.

He was close. She knew it in the way his body tensed against her, the way his thrusts lost control and became more frantic. She mewled and cried beneath him, the friction too much, her body too sensitive, unable to take anymore. Her legs trembled, still locked around him, traitorously refusing her the space she needed. She couldn’t take it, but she _needed_ it. His movements stuttered as he groaned against her mouth, finally shuddering to a halt.

Elena wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him down on top of her. She could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest, mirroring her own. She shivered, the sweat on her skin making the air feel even colder, and when she kissed his forehead, she could taste the salt on his skin.

He straightened up, and she grumbled, her body protesting as he pulled out. Her thighs were wet, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t the first time they’d made a mess at work, and she doubted it would be the last. His hands fell to her hips again, gentler now as he pulled her to the edge of the desk, setting her bare feet back on the floor.

She felt deliciously sore, already feeling the dull ache of the bruises on the back of her thighs. He draped her shirt back around her shoulders, tucking it around her carefully, his warm hands wandering leisurely down her arms. This time when he kissed her, his mouth was softer, sweeter against her own.

Eventually, he pulled away, winding his arms around her waist. 

“I suppose I have Reno to thank for this?” he asked.

Elena laughed, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Merry Christmas, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to ElenaChatNoir for [this](https://twitter.com/ElenaChatNoir/status/1349833806941925379) beautiful piece of fanart <3


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